by Philip Dwyer
Europe’s political elite suspected Napoleon of harbouring ambitions to create a universal monarchy. The Prussian king, Frederick William III, spoke of his ‘inordinate ambition’ (ambition démesurée), while the Prussian ambassador to Paris, Girolamo Lucchesini, believed that Napoleon was going to ‘recreate Charlemagne’.136 The Prussian foreign minister Karl August von Hardenberg, writing to Metternich in 1804, thought that that ‘fool’ Napoleon was ‘aiming for world domination; he wishes to accustom us all to regard ourselves as his subjects who must accommodate his every whim’.137 Russia’s political elite was also under the impression that Napoleon was attempting to create a universal monarchy. They devised a number of measures to counter the possibility.138 Alexander I’s Polish adviser Prince Adam Czartoryski believed that the proclamation of the Empire brought Napoleon a step closer to the idea of ‘universal domination’, and came to understand that the adoption of the imperial title in 1804 made him think he might be able to realize the ‘old dream of universal monarchy’.139 Napoleon’s assumption of the throne of the newly created Kingdom of Italy in May 1805, and his annexation of the Republic of Genoa the following month, was grist for the mill and reinforced the belief that he was aspiring to a ‘monarchie universelle’.140 The impression grew with every Napoleonic victory.
Two other developments reinforced the notion. The first was the annexation of Holland and the Papal States into the Empire in 1810. Rumours about the proclamation of a universal monarchy had been circulating for weeks. When Armand de Caulaincourt confronted Napoleon on the matter, his response was appropriately enigmatic: ‘This business is a dream, and I am wide awake.’141 Second, when Napoleon invaded Russia in 1812, rumours were rife that once he had dealt with Alexander, he would march on Constantinople, China or India and deal a blow to the British. ‘There is talk of going to India,’ wrote Boniface de Castellane on 5 October 1812. ‘We have such confidence that we do not even think about whether such an enterprise might be successful, but only about the number of months’ march that would be necessary and the time it would take letters to come from France.’142 The suggestion is, of course, that he would set out from Moscow not only to deal a blow to Britain, but also to conquer the East. One French historian recently gave the claim a fillip when he asserted that coronation gear was found in the French baggage train during the retreat from Moscow and concludes, somewhat speculatively, that Napoleon had moved from the idea of a ‘universal republic’ towards that of a ‘universal empire’ and that, after defeating Russia, he planned to have himself crowned in the Kremlin.143
There are a number of occasions when Napoleon is supposed to have asserted that his goal was to rule the world. Miot de Mélito reported a conversation between Napoleon and his brother Joseph during the Consulate in which the First Consul asserted that they would be masters of the world within two years.144 That was in July 1800. There is the noted quip in a letter from Napoleon to Vice-Admiral Latouche-Tréville concerning the plans to invade England in 1804: ‘Let us be masters of the straits for six hours and we shall be masters of the world.’145 On one occasion, he is supposed to have said to his notorious minister of police, Joseph Fouché, ‘I must make all the people of Europe one people, and Paris the capital of the world.’146 Again, he reportedly said to Fouché shortly before leaving for the Russian campaign, ‘How can I help it if a surfeit of power draws me towards dictatorship of the world?’147 Even if Fouché is to be believed, one can easily dismiss much of what Napoleon said as hyperbole. Nevertheless, the rhetoric was there often enough for those in his entourage to suspect him of wanting to dominate or unite, depending on one’s point of view, all of Europe. He declared to the Austrian General Vincent, on 22 July 1806, that he would not be able to take the title ‘Emperor of the West’ until he had defeated a fourth coalition.148 In 1811, he told the French diplomat Dominique Dufour de Pradt, ‘In five years, I will be master of the world. Only Russia is left, and I will crush it.’149 That same year he said to the Bavarian General Wrede, ‘In three years I will be master of the universe.’150 After his return from Elba, in April 1815, he admitted in a conversation with the political theorist Benjamin Constant that he had ‘wanted to rule the world’, and that in order to do it he needed ‘unlimited power . . . The world begged me to govern it; sovereigns and nations vied with one another in throwing themselves under my sceptre.’151 Now that is hubris. The idea of a universal monarchy was given further impetus on St Helena. One of the evangelists of the Napoleonic cult, Emmanuel de Las Cases, who perpetuated Napoleon’s heroic identity through the publication of the Memorial of St Helena, noted the fallen Emperor’s utterances throughout his stay on the island. According to his view, Napoleon tamed the Revolution and marched at its head in a struggle to the death against Europe. In the process he became, in some respects, a universal monarch.152
That is not much to go on, and some of these assertions have to be treated with a degree of scepticism. Napoleon was in the habit of waxing lyrical, of indulging in exaggeration, of sounding out ideas by expressing them in front of an audience. He may not have taken his own musings on world domination seriously. Moreover, he was heard denying that he had any such ambitions. Well, sort of. In an interview with the papal nuncio to Russia, Monsignor d’Arezzo, in Berlin in November 1806, he complained of the nuncio at Vienna, who had supposedly put it about that Napoleon wanted to make himself ‘Emperor of the West’. ‘I have never had that idea,’ he insisted, although he could not help but add, ‘I won’t say that it will never happen, but I wasn’t thinking about it at the time.’153 Finally, none of the comments is first hand; all are reported snippets from conversations with Napoleon, some from people who cannot be entirely trusted. Fouché, for example, was intent on portraying himself in a positive light and his former master in a negative one when he wrote his memoirs many years after these conversations took place.
These statements are useful not so much for their accuracy as for the impression they give of what others believed Napoleon’s intentions to be, or believed him to be capable of. There is no doubt that Napoleon and the French had hegemonic pretensions on the Continent, but the question that intrigues and is more difficult to answer is whether it went beyond that. There is enough evidence to indicate that Napoleon was pushing the boundaries, seeing how far he could actually go, seeing how much he could emulate Alexander the Great, by at least contemplating, if not pursuing (and in a very haphazard fashion), the extension of French power outside Europe. In his mind, he was the tool of destiny; he felt he was driven towards a goal that he did not know, but that it involved changing the face of the world.154 And only once his task was finished would all come to an end, as he imagined it, through a fever, a fall from a horse during the hunt, or a cannon ball. Until that time, ‘all human effort against me is but naught’.155
Where does that leave Napoleon’s so-called aspirations for universal monarchy? Two points have to be kept in mind. The first is that Napoleon was a schemer, a dreamer who considered all his options before finally committing to the most practical though not always most ‘realistic’ plan (think of the Egyptian or Russian expeditions). The second point to keep in mind is that, as some historians have convincingly maintained, his foreign policy was continually renewed and dictated entirely by circumstances and their immediate needs.156 Napoleon had in fact no coherent imperial foreign policy. Some historians have insisted that he conquered for the sake of conquering, with no defining goals and no overriding, consistent or specific long-term strategic objectives.157 Since each campaign created new enemies, the wars were continuous and could stop only with the defeat of Napoleon. If he were truly intent on constructing a universal monarchy, then he never did so in any systematic way. Otherwise, he would have incorporated into the Empire most of Germany, including Prussia, defeated in 1806, and he would either have incorporated or partitioned the Habsburg Empire, defeated in four separate wars. Napoleon may have had an aggressive expansionist foreign policy, he may have wanted to dominate and con
trol most of Europe, he may have fantasized about dominating the world’s colonial empires, but he could never become ‘Emperor of the Universe’.
17
‘A Very Stormy Year’
Napoleon Reaches Out
Napoleon and Marie-Louise were inseparable for the first twenty-seven months, an experience he had not had with Josephine. The new marriage was, however, only a momentary reprieve from that ambition which gnawed at his soul like a canker. Members of his entourage noticed how much he had changed, notwithstanding the domestic happiness he was meant to be enjoying. He became preoccupied, and fell into periods of meditation, which were in fact a depression. The prefect Prosper de Barante, who was able to observe Napoleon closely during this period, noticed that ‘these thoughts were troubling him; his nights were ruined by long periods of insomnia; he would spend hours on a sofa, given over to reflection. Finally he would succumb and fall into a fitful sleep.’1 He had plenty to worry about. Things had not gone as smoothly in Spain as he had expected, the Germans were groaning under the weight of occupation and exploitation, and the French were desperate for peace. Change, however, was in the nature of the beast. Napoleon was as incapable of resting on his laurels as Alexander the Great had been. Not content with having drawn his own dynasty closer to the established monarchies of Europe, he was now intent on a radical overhaul of the Empire, centred on his person and the consolidation of his power.
Napoleon had created a number of satellite kingdoms in order to rule over Europe more effectively – Joseph in Naples and then in Spain; Louis in Holland; Jérôme in Westphalia; Murat in the Grand Duchy of Berg and then, with Caroline, in Naples; Eugène in Italy; Elisa and her husband, Prince Bacciochi, were given the Kingdom of Etruria (incorporating part of modern Tuscany). It was indeed a system remarkably similar to the Carolingian model in which the brothers and sisters reigned over the far reaches of the Empire. Though these satellite kingdoms were ‘given’ to his brothers and sisters, Napoleon could just as easily take back what he gave, generally ignoring the domestic interests of the states concerned. The most egregious example of this was Holland. By November 1809, Napoleon had made the decision to annex the kingdom and to attach it to the Empire, undoing the little popularity Louis had managed to build up and increasing Dutch dislike, if not hatred, of the French.2 Louis was virtually kept under house arrest in Paris for five months from the beginning of December 1809, before he was allowed to return to Holland. While in Paris, he sent a letter ordering Holland to be defended by flooding it, and especially to resist an occupation of Amsterdam. Napoleon was furious when he found out; over the coming weeks and months Louis eventually gave in to his demands. When Louis was finally allowed to leave for Holland at the end of April, a king in name only, and faced with a looming French occupation of his capital, there was a final act of defiance. He actually convoked a council of war to debate whether he should resist, but was wisely dissuaded from acting rashly. On the night of 1–2 July 1810, Louis abdicated in favour of his son (Napoleon Louis), left behind a proclamation and ordered his carriage.3 Not being possessed of a particularly gracious physique, he fell into a ditch as he was walking to his carriage. Wet and covered in mud, he then disappeared into exile.4 For a couple of weeks no one knew where he had gone; he travelled in the company of his aide-de-camp and his captain of the Guard, as well as his dog, Tiel, first to Teplitz and then to Graz in Bohemia under the pseudonym the Comte de Saint-Leu. In spite of Napoleon’s summonses, Louis refused to return to France. On the contrary, in 1813 he took up residence in Switzerland, seeing a chance to regain his old throne, and wrote to the magistrates of Amsterdam offering his services.
We do not know what Napoleon’s siblings may have thought of the annexation of Holland but it obviously did not bode well for their own thrones nor did it enhance the impression Europeans may have formed of the Bonaparte family. In a letter Joseph addressed to his brother, the first in a long time, he lamented ‘the dispersion of a family once so united, the change that has come about in the heart of my brother, [and] the gradual weakening of such an immense glory’.5 It was a thinly veiled jibe. Napoleon had to have total control over the affairs of his relatives’ governments. He constantly harassed and criticized his brothers and sisters in letters that were sent to the capitals, Amsterdam, Madrid, Naples, Milan, Florence and Kassel. Murat, as King of Naples, received missive after missive that was scornful, bitter or likely to hurt his pride, depending on the circumstances.6 And yet he had done a relatively good job in difficult circumstances, managing to consolidate his control over Naples, eliminate resistance in Calabria and defeat an Anglo-Sicilian offensive under General John Stuart, all the while introducing a number of reforms. But Napoleon was unable to recognize the real accomplishments made and refused to allow Murat any semblance of independence.7
The situation was similar for Napoleon’s other relatives. Jérôme too was deeply upset at the way in which his brother treated him. In August 1810, only a few weeks after the departure of Louis from Holland, Napoleon decided to annex outright the northern coastal regions along the North Sea and the Baltic. Part of this coastal region fell under the rule of Jérôme; he was to lose about 600,000 souls and some of the richest areas in his kingdom. Napoleon informed his brother of his decision by a brief note, which simply stated that it was necessary to place these territories in French hands.8 Jérôme was furious; it was with great difficulty that the French ambassador in Kassel, Charles-Frédéric Reinhard, persuaded him not to go to Paris to demand compensation. Instead, he sent a letter demanding several territorial indemnities. The letter’s tone seemed to amuse Napoleon, who supposedly said on reading it that if Jérôme had an army of 300,000 men, he would invade France.9 Nor did it alter Napoleon’s behaviour towards his brother in any way: the annexations went ahead. Napoleon did not even bother to inform Jérôme of his decision to annex the northern coastal regions; he learnt of the fate of his kingdom through his ambassador to Paris.
To treat his younger brothers this way was one thing, to treat Joseph with the same condescension was another. In the same way that Napoleon had no time for Joseph’s complaints when he was King of Naples, so too did he ignore the real difficulties Joseph faced when King of Spain. Joseph did not always like being told what to do by his younger brother, and sometimes complained publicly about him (which always got back to Paris).10 In fact, Napoleon’s behaviour towards his brothers was typical of the way he behaved towards everyone – that is, he hid his true intentions. Joseph would be ‘of no consequence’ (peu de chose), he said, if he were not the Emperor’s brother.11 By the beginning of 1810, Joseph was king in name only. Napoleon had essentially taken direct power out of his hands and given it to a number of military governors, placed in charge of provinces, who were answerable to Napoleon alone. On top of that, Andalusia was given to Marshal Soult as viceroy. Joseph was essentially at the mercy of a group of generals, most of whom despised him.
The summer of 1810 was the height of Napoleon’s territorial reach: he ruled directly or indirectly over about 40 per cent of the total European population. The Empire contained forty-four million subjects, all under the same administrative and judicial systems (the Code Napoleon was in principle applied all over the Empire).2 In addition, the vassal states that fell under Napoleon’s sway – the Kingdom of Italy, the Confederation of the Rhine, the Kingdoms of Naples and Westphalia, and the Duchy of Warsaw – comprised another 33–35 million subjects. Here too the Code Napoleon was applied, although often in a watered-down version. The nature of the Empire changed during the decade that it endured. At first it was to be a federated empire.13 When this arrangement did not work, Napoleon moved towards a unitary empire with a uniform law code.
The birth of his son could potentially have changed all that; it would no longer be necessary to leave those thrones in the hands of his relatives. Eventually they could all be transferred into the hands of his son, thus creating a unified empire. By the summer of 1810 Napoleon was already contemplat
ing dissolving the satellite kingdoms and replacing them with a European government modelled on imperial Rome.14 A senatus consultum passed in February 1810 made Rome the second capital of the Empire, and stipulated that all future emperors would be crowned first at Notre Dame in Paris, and then at St Peter’s in Rome (before the tenth year of their reign).15 It was an evident echo of the Carolingian Empire.16 With this in mind, preparations were undertaken in Rome to receive Napoleon for a second coronation, which was supposed to take place in either 1813 or 1814. Gardens were planted on the Pincian Hill and dubbed the Gardens of Caesar the Great. The Quirinal Palace was rearranged to accommodate the Emperor, the Empress and the King of Rome. A medal was even struck to commemorate the (forthcoming) occasion with the device: ‘The imperial eagle returns to the Capitol’.
The Phantom Alliance
‘Napoleon tyrannized kings’, asserted one critic, ‘in the same way Robespierre tyrannized the people.’17 His attitude towards Alexander is a case in point. Relations between France and Russia had deteriorated almost as soon as the ink on the Treaty of Tilsit had dried, to the point where Napoleon now referred to Tilsit as the ‘phantom alliance’, and he believed that a new war in the east seemed likely.18 The Russian elite, as we have seen, had never accepted the alliance. The new Russian ambassador to Paris in 1807, for example, Count Peter Alexandrovich Tolstoy, was hostile to both France and Napoleon: he was against the alliance, and against the proposed marriage to one of the Tsar’s sisters.19 When Napoleon complained about Tolstoy, he was replaced by Prince Kurakin, whose attitude was just as inflexible. In 1808, the Tsar’s adviser Adam Czartoryski wrote a confidential note to Alexander in which he aired his concerns: ‘Napoleon seeks only to establish his supremacy; Prussia served him, he destroyed it; Spain served him, he is going to invade it after dethroning the king, his ally.’ Czartoryski believed that Austria would be partitioned and that Russia would be the sole remaining power in Europe until Napoleon sought a passage through Russia to India; that he would re-establish Poland and so on. The only response to the French threat was secretly to arm in alliance with England, Austria and Sweden.20 Relations between the two countries became more strained after Erfurt, despite the very public displays of harmony between the two men. In fact, Alexander was carefully manoeuvring between public opinion at home, which was hostile to the French alliance (and which reflected Alexander’s true feelings) and keeping his French ally placated. The manoeuvre did not work. At home, Alexander was excoriated for the alliance – rumours of a coup abounded – while Napoleon was less than impressed by his ally’s evident lack of enthusiasm manifested in the absence of concrete military support during the campaign against Austria in 1809.21
